Silent Crossing
by Souffle'd
Summary: When a mysterious and dangerous fog rolls into town, the residents of a sleepy rural community are pitted against the creations of a nightmare realm where all their worst fears are made solid. Who will survive the night? Animal Crossing X Silent Hill.
1. The Fog

**A/N: Well, I fancied my hand at writing a crossover story, so here it is. I've noticed that the Animal Crossing X Silent Hill section of the website is a well-populated destination, so I hope that I meet all of your high expectations. In all seriousness, if anyone out there actually reads this, you can probably tell this isn't an altogether straight-faced yarn. I've wanted to write something for both of these fandoms for a long time, but having no great inspirations for either, I decided to smash them together to see what would happen.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Sequence 1: The Fog**

Mayor Tortimer gazed out of the dull grey window that faced his desk, taking in the underwhelming sight of an even greyer day. Spots of rain started to dribble down the pane, and the low and monotonous sound of pattering on the roof covering above threatened to lull the old mayor into a haze of late afternoon slumber.

As the crusty tortoise began to breathe more loudly, the rocking of his chair coming to a peaceful still, a loud plop brought him back to his senses. He gazed over at the metal bucket laid out in the middle of the floor, semi-empty yet nonetheless filled with enough excess rainwater to brew a small, if salty, cup of coffee.

The rhythmic clicking of Pelly on the typewriter across the room started to become entangled with the chorus of rain, becoming akin to a twisted version of Blithely Oaks' town theme. The pelican was typing out a message to her boyfriend living in Boondox. Occasionally, Tortimer would pretend to go over to the notice board at the back of the room and sneak a peek at the text.

The last time he had looked, Pelly had been pouring her frustrations into a rather desperate plea involving the cramming of a grilled cheese and dirt sandwich into regions best left unimagined. Needless to say, the mayor had lapped up every juicy detail, dirty old cad that he was.

It was about half-past 3 on a Wednesday afternoon. The town was desolate, isolated to their homes by the torrential gloominess outside. Even the local black market had packed up for the day, with the owner retreating inside a nearby dustbin to light up a herbal bong.

Nook's Cranny, ordinarily the hub of activity in the town, was closed for renovations, brown tarpaulin cloaking the construction from the outside world. The occasional hollow tapping of a chisel from inside was one of few sounds capable of disturbing the vacuum that hung over the town.

Life had come to a deathly still.

Until, that is, when the bell above the Town Hall's front door pealed at roughly quarter to 4, and one of the town's resident gardeners/hole diggers/merciless hunters entered, adorned by a red cowboy hat. As he approached the counter, a strange limp in his walk, Pelly looked up, noticing the swellings on his face.

"Oh, not again," she sighed.

"Look, I need money, okay?" the donkey exclaimed. "Nook is bleeding me dry with his Chic furniture bundles... If somebody is leaving bags of cash up trees, then it's all fair game to try and take them down!"

Pelly tutted. "What do you want anyway?"

"I need to post a letter."

Pelly held out her feathered fingers in anticipation of an envelope.

"Hang on, I haven't written it yet. Can you take a dictation?"

Pelly sighed loudly, making her disapproval very apparent.

"Fine."

"Okay."

The donkey, who for narrative purposes will now be referred to by his name, which is Buck, cleared his throat and began.

"Dear Camofrog. Comma. You suck. Exclamation Mark times two."

Pelly cussed silently as 'suck' was absorbed into the matrix of Nintendo censorship, never to be seen again.

Buck continued, undeterred. "If you want your watering can delivered, you can do it yourself. Full stop. Plus, you should work out, weed. Full stop. Kind regards, the Big Buck. Got it?"

Pelly mumbled, chewing her pen ravenously as she scribbled.

"Will that be all?"

"No. I want to make a payment on my mortgage."

"Go ahead."

Buck slid a single Bell across the counter, smiling smugly. Pelly took it, pausing to spit on it covertly, before putting it in her cash register.

Satisfied, Buck turned and headed for the door. Opening it, he paused in the doorway, gazing out at the majesty of his town of Blithely Oaks. A tendril of white, smoky mist curled around his headspace, and nothing more than a metre away from his eyes was remotely visible, the whole world obscured by a milky haze.

"This fog rolled in fast," Buck noted, stepping out into the shifting white vortex.

As he started to walk he became aware of some intrusive ambient noises from around him. The heavy rustling of footfalls on golden leaves - a rushing of water in one of the three babbling brooks that ran through the town. Yet, nothing was visible.

Suddenly, a phantasmic-white blur rushed before his eyes, and all of a sudden Buck ended up trapped inside a circular prism.

"Oops," said Teddy, lifting his bug catching net off of Buck's head. "Sorry, partner. I thought you were an Emerald Butterfly. I love them so much, partner."

"Yeah, get lost," Buck spat, pushing the klutzy bear aside.

"Wait, I have a joke for you!"

Buck sighed loudly. "What is it?"

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there," Buck growled.

"You're."

"You're who?"

"You're dead," Teddy laughed, his face warping and distorting as long, fanged tendrils erupted from inside his throat, snaring Buck inside their hungered grasps.

A guttural and contorted laughter emanated from the back of Teddy's throat, the sound giving the impression of something being forcibly stretched or crushed.

Buck's dying screams were muffled into near-silence as he was pulled inside Teddy's boa constrictor-like mouth, the last sight in this life being an enlarged and wobbly uvula as it grew closer and closer.

Then, there was only Teddy. And soon after, even he vanished, dissolving into the mist from whence he came.

* * *

Ellis pushed open the door of his house tentatively, head poking around the corner to check for stealthy, battle-ready ninja tarantulas.

He wished he'd never taken on that challenge from Camofrog...

"Bet ya can't catch a tarantula before me, ribbit!"

What a slimy little prick.

He hadn't bothered to visit Ellis either, unlike the rest of the townsfolk, who instead of bringing flowers or chocolates had brought pile after pile of assorted carpets, dumping them all in a messy stack at the foot of his bed.

The weather outside was far from the flotilla of sunshine that the message board outside the town hall had promised. Although by now Ellis was used to the serial lying of the townsfolk, the apparent innocence of the inconspicuous board still blindsided him every time.

Fog drifted past him in massive clouds, like regiments in an army. He stepped out of the house cautiously, closing the door behind him and pulling out his slingshot. It certainly paid to take precautions in such a dangerous town.

He could still picture Margie's sweet, innocent face... but now it was distorted by images of her falling face-first into the river and drowning whilst trying to hook a Popeyed Goldfish. Nobody had bought the "I moved out!" letter that they had received in their letterbox - not when every single one of its kind was written on the same stationary; stationary from Nook's Cranny.

Noticing that his money tree was wilting, Ellis let out a sharp squeal and ran over to it, seizing his watering can between quivering hands.

"Come on baby, just a little peek, just for me," he whimpered.

The tree was, however, as dead as Lyle's chances of selling insurance. A solitary tear rolled down Ellis' cheek.

"There goes my shot at paying off Nook's debt," he sighed. "God-damnit."

Suddenly, he heard a howl next to him, and a big black wolf tore out of the bushes towards him.

A brief flash of fear crossed Ellis' face, before it turned into a scowl of mild irritation at having been startled so easily.

"Hey, Wolfgang," he greeted.

The wolf grunted. "Hmph. And what the heck do YOU want, snarl?"

"I'm just killing time," Ellis muttered.

Wolfgang's eyebrows leapt up. "Say, have you tried this tofu diet? Its... amazing..."

Ellis smirked. "You don't sound so sure..."

Wolfgang groaned. "Yeah, its pretty awful, snarl. But this whole vegetarian reformation is important to me... I can't go back - I can't."

Despite his deeply-cynical nature, Ellis couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for his downtrodden lupine neighbour.

"It'll get easier," Ellis assured him, patting him gently on the shoulder.

Wolfgang froze, staring at the hand like it was an alien probe, before loosening his shoulders and letting out a short huff.

"Well thanks, I guess, snarl. Here, have a wardrobe."

Ellis accepted the green leaf icon with a faux pas of gratefulness, making a mental note to sell it off next time he saw Nook.

"Say, have you seen Buck anywhere?" Wolfgang asked. "That fool owes me a Crucian Carp."

Ellis shook his head, gesturing to the smothering fog that was closing in on the pair at a frightening speed, cloaking the world around them.

"It's getting heavier."

Wolfgang shrugged. "It's strange, snarl. I don't think its very common to have quite so much of it at once."

As the duo looked out at the fog, they suddenly became aware of a distant rumbling sound. It was a dull, cushioned echo, and at first it was so quiet, Ellis thought he had imagined it. But then, it started again, and it sounded louder.

And closer.

"Heck is that?" Wolfgang asked, looking about himself uncertainly.

"I'm not sure," Ellis admitted, but taking out his net just in case of the appearance of a rare bug.

The rumbling stopped again, before starting up right beneath their feet. By this point, it was nearly as loud as the throttle of a lawnmower engine. The dirt upon the surface of the ground seemed to shake in its presence, and before he even registered the thought in his brain, Ellis was running, taking Wolfgang roughly by the shoulder, and tugging him away.

It was at the exact moment that they had gotten out of range when the enormous pickaxe burst through the ground, followed by a glowering red snout, and white, circular balls of rage.

"Damn resetters!" The seething mole cried. "Now I've got you."

Ellis started to hyperventilate, frantically trying to recall whether he had turned off his game in recent days, but no memories resurfaced.

"Resetti?" Wolfgang asked, bemusedly. "What are you doing here? I thought you got laid off?"

"No rest for the wicked!" Resetti boomed, slowly rising out of the earth.

And it was at that point that both Ellis and Wolfgang realised that there was something horribly wrong.

The top half of Resetti's body was just as one would expect - furious, arm-waving body, dressed in blue dungarees and wielding a sharp-looking axe. However, the bottom half, from waistline downwards, was a whole other beast entirely.

In fact, 'beast' put it quite rightly.

Perhaps the best way - although the way most likely to produce nightmares - of detailing the creature that comprised Resetti's lower torso is to say that it was like a towering totem pole of bones. Or, more accurately, mounds of flesh with shards of cartilage jutting out, like legs on a centipede. In fact, centipede was the first thought to hit Ellis amongst a wave of numbness and intellectual blackout.

And yet, this was no centipede. It was a huge, writhing mass of literal nightmare fuel, fresh from a graveyard.

Wolfgang had just been staring silently as the eldritch abomination rose from the earth, but as it coiled its elongated, arthropod body upon the ground and hissed at the pair with its Resetti face, he let out a short, dull shriek.

"Run!" Ellis screamed, Wolfgang furiously nodding his agreement as the Resetti-pede took chase, slithering across the ground like a serpent with bone protrusions waggling.

And so, they did just that. They ran.

* * *

Blathers looked out of the window of his museum, drawing back sharply with a light squeal as a tuft of pea soup-coloured fog in the shape of a bug slapped its body against the window.

His heart fluttering, Blathers shook his head furiously, desperate to dislodge the image.

It had been four hours. Four hours since the fog had rolled in, quick as a riptide in the heart of a storm, dragging it with it the most terrifying of hallucinations - some simple taunts, others terrible, solid threats. Threats with teeth and claws and... PINCERS.

Blathers shivered violently at the remembrance. He had been so shaken, he had nearly bolted himself, Brewster and Celeste inside, pushing his T-Rex skull against the wooden doors in the hope of keeping R.L. Stine's satanic spawn from entering his beloved roost.

But then the others had come. Some running, others literally pelting down the pathway, tail between their legs, screaming. Almost all of the town's residents were here now - Tortimer, Pelly, Phyllis, Nook, The Able Sisters, Crazy Redd, The two guardsmen from the Town Gate... And then, of course, the villagers: Hugh, who had been wailing like a piglet; Queenie, whose feathers were stuck up like a frightened little hatchling; Pierce, who bolted through the door with his two favourite dumbbells hefted up onto his shoulders... Only Wolfgang and Ellis were unaccounted for.

The other residents were gone... taken by the fog. Hugh had sworn to have seen Teddy wandering the fog, gigantic snakes swarming out of his mouth, but had thought better about approaching him. Camofrog had been found floating face-down in a pond. Buck's beloved dice shirt had been found with tooth and claw marks down its front. And Dotty? The less said about her, the better.

Blathers opened his eye, saw that the fog had morphed back into its normal, gaseous state, and let out a strangled sigh of relief. Next to him, Crazy Redd was sat on a box, cradling himself and rocking back and forth, muttering incomprehensibly to himself.

"That's curazeeeeeeee," he whispered, leaning his head against the wall. "Cousin, dat be some crazzzzeeeness."

Brewster had been the calmest of all, always the level-headed one that you could rely on. He had quickly doled out free hot drinks on the dozen - tall, frothing mugs of freshly-weaned Pigeon Blend, as well as other assorted flavours. He was keen to keep the residents' minds off of the waking nightmare that they currently inhabited. However, that didn't stop him from exhibiting his usual brand of stubbornness when faced with a difficult customer.

"It's too hot right now, okay! Just let it cool for a bit!" Pierce protested again, causing Brewster to calmly put down the cup he was washing out, gently rest the folds of his wings upon the counter in front of Pierce, and look the bird straight in the eye.

"NOW YOU LISTEN HERE, YOU PONCY LITTLE TURD!" He screamed. "IF YOU COME TO MY CAFE, THEN YOU WILL DRINK MY COFFEE, YOU WILL DRINK WHEN IT IS PIPING HOT, AND YOU WILL LIKE IT!"

Pierce blinked several times, with the speed of a rotating ceiling fan, then lifted his coffee to his lips, swilling it down hurriedly.

K.K. Slider, who had 'just been passing through, man', decided to perform some of his more melodic tunes in an attempt to pacify the fearful villages. It seemed to be working quite well, the gentle hum of his strumming lulling the neighbours into a peaceful state.

Even Phyllis, known for being the most insufferable person alive, seemed to be in a state of blissful weariness, her head down on the table, lipstick smeared across the bench as she snored loudly.

Unbeknownst to Blathers, the old mayor Tortimer was currently trying to chat up his sister in the aquarium room. He had hobbled up behind her as she had been reverently watching the Ocean Sunfish rippling in the tank's current.

"Soooo, you like constellations, do ya?" he wheezed.

Celeste looked at Tortimer and smiled warmly. "Yes. Do you?"

"Not usually, but you, baby, were WRITTEN IN THE STARS!"

Celeste's smile melted away as she realised she was being hit on once again.

"Oh, feck off you old fart," she moaned, Tortimer glumly looking down before hobbling away.

Back at the window, Blathers looked out once again through the fog. Nearly none of the town's architecture or flora was remotely visible in the white desolation - only the outlines remained, visible by the keen-eyed.

The curator was just about to look away when he saw them - two figures, dashing towards the museum out of the fog.

Blathers squinted, trying to make the figures out. As they drew closer, he had a sudden jolt of recognition.

"It's Ellis and Wolfgang!" he squawked. "Open the door!"

Booker immediately went to unlock the chains, only to have Cooper put a hand on his shoulder, attempting to stop him.

"How do we know its really them, and not some trick of the fog?" the guarddog asked. "Just like the apparition of Dr. Shrunk that attacked Booker and I?"

"We can't just leave them out there!" Blathers roared. "It's... its damn-near murder!"

Cooper took out his spear and pointed it at Blathers with restrained anger. The bird immediately recoiled at the sight of the weapon.

"If you're wrong, it's on you... curator," Cooper hissed, before allowing Booker to pull open the museum doors.

Almost immediately, Ellis and Wolfgang came rushing through the doors. The latter was slobbering hysterically; the former, upon entering, let out a tirade of pleas.

"Close it, close it!"

"Close what?" Booker asked, genuinely confused.

"The door! Close the door!"

"Oh, um, okay. Terribly sorry, I hadn't realized-"

"JUST DO IT!"

Cooper leaned in, slamming the doors shut and bolting them. Just before the outside world became invisible, he could have sworn he saw an enormous serpentine shape writhing in the fog.

Wolfgang, panting heavily, sank to his knees on the museum floor. Queenie approached him tentatively. "Wolfgang, you okay?"

"Do I look okay, snarl?!" The villager snapped.

Queenie sighed with relief. "He's fine."

"What happened to you guys?" Blathers asked.

"Mr. Resetti," Ellis cried breathlessly. "He's turned into a monster... Well, a BIGGER monster... He chased us... What the heck is going on?"

Blathers came over all world-wearied for a moment, giving a short little cross between sigh and laugh.

"I've heard tales of such a fog," he began, everyone in the lobby crowding around to hear what he had to say. "Myths... Legends... I had no reason to take any notice of them. Why, when I was a young owl in college, I-"

Someone in the room coughed loudly, and Blathers realised he had started to warble.

"Oh, my apologies. Anyhoo, in the tales, the fog is described as coming from another world entirely... It is known as the Other, a nightmarish plain said to resemble our own, only horrifically twisted and brimming with demonic presences..."

"Hey, isn't that like our town alr-"

The crowd collectively shushed the interrupting party, and they fell silent. Blathers continued.

"It is said that once every thousand years, the two worlds are at their closest, and they start to overlap, causing contents of the nightmare realm to be pulled into our own... And vice-versa."

"So, the residents of the town that have been attacking us..." Queenie began.

"...Are from the nightmare realm? Aye, it is possible. Likely, even. But there is a more terrifying proposition... They may have been the residents of our own world, horribly transformed after drifting in and out of the Other..."

"That's unthinkable!" Cooper blurted. "Inconceivable! These villagers couldn't catch a fly in a bug net, let alone hurt one!"

"These are no longer the villagers we used to know," Blathers droned ominously. "The fog is said to reflect our greatest fears, taking forms of both the familiar... and the most certainly not..."

Ellis thought back to centipede Resetti, and shuddered.

"Is there anything to be done?" Queenie cried.

"I fear not," Blathers said solemnly. "The crossing of the two worlds has long been said to be a herald of the end of all things... The dawn of the Eschaton, starting line of the apocalypse... Ground zero of the end times... Point A of-"

"We get the point," Ellis assured him.

"Well, yes, I suppose you do..." Blathers grumbled.

"Then what do we do?" Wolfgang growled, having seemingly recovered enough to assume his normal, misery-guts attitude.

"We ride it out in here!" Cooper declared brightly. "If we survive long enough, maybe things will go back to the way they were!"

The room was filled with a chorus of excitable and hopeful chatter. Only Blathers remained stony-faced.

"Sometimes the scariest things are not those that you lock out, but those that you lock in..." he murmured to himself.

Ellis, looking around the faces of his fellow survivors, suddenly made out Hugh in the crowd, and joyously made his way over.

"Dr. E!" Hugh grinned, upon seeing his closest friend. "Glad to see you made it!"

"You too!" Ellis laughed. "I'd hate to have had to save your bacon!"

Hugh chuckled at Ellis' good-natured pork joke, unlike Rasher, a previous resident, who despite having the most blatantly-ironic name in history, was a sourpuss with no sense of humour.

"Did Pierce make it?" Ellis asked hopefully of his other mate.

"Yeah, he's having coffee in the Roost," Hugh smiled. "You wanna go grab a mug?"

"Sure, let's TROT down!" Ellis replied, prompting another laugh from Hugh. The two headed downstairs.

Blathers turned his attention back to the fogged-up window. As he did so, he saw that there was the faint, yet distinct outline of a handprint upon the window pane. He shuddered as he processes the image, imagining when it had been left; who it had been left by...

Had they been watching the residents through the window?

As the thought crossed his mind, Blathers could have sworn he heard a distant cry from outside. An unnatural, guttural sound, like no animal he had ever heard.

But, as he looked back to the chattering villagers, none of them seemed concerned. Maybe he had imagined it.

It was going to be a long, long night.


	2. The Fear

**Sequence Two: The Fear**

Tom Nook sat at the foot of a half-completed Triceratops skeleton. His eyes were shut gently as he mulled over the events of that day - frantic rushes of images which more likely to cause a shudder of fear than an epiphany of understanding.

He remembered how he had looked out from the tarpaulin-covered doorway of his humble shop, Nook's Cranny, and seen swathes of fire out in the distance, between the trees. He recalled the pungent scent that had invaded his nostrils - the tangy, ashy stench of melting gold.

Of melting Bells.

He had run straight towards the flames with tear-streamed eyes, desperate to salvage as much of the bubbling wealth that he could manage, but to no avail. The wicks of fire stung to the touch, shimmering with a strange transparent quality that was unlike anything Nook had seen outside of college parties with Sable back in the day.

He had quickly made the decision that some money was simply not worth risking his own life for, promoting him to run straight for the nearest river, to where he had assumed he was safe from the flames.

Nook bit his lip hard as he remembered what came next, with shaking paws and a quivering snout.

He had nearly thrown himself headlong into the river. Luckily for him, he had slowed just for long enough prior to notice a Black Bass swimming in the water in front of him. A Black Bass which, upon hearing the rush of feet, did not attempt to escape, instead turning around to face Nook, opening its gormless mouth to reveal a grand total of six sets of whirring, gnashing teeth.

From there, he had pelted towards the safety of the Town Hall, only to find the building wrought with flames. Meeting up with Crazy Redd, his quality assurance man, he ended up in the museum, where he was - temporarily, at least - safe from the monstrous threat that lurked outside.

Nook's eyelids shot open. He turned his head around rapidly, expecting to see a great monster leering over him, fishy eyes lusting for flesh and blood.

But he saw nothing. The museum was empty, with nothing but skeletal parts and empty display cases in all directions.

Nook let out a calming sigh. Clearly, he had imagined the noise; the great BOOM that had caused him to sit alert with such agency.

He looked round, and for a split second, his furry raccoon heart stopped breathing altogether. His breath caught in his throat, his body paralysed as his eyes set like stones upon the terrifying vision in front of them.

The Tyrannosaurus was looking straight at him. Its skeletal head was tilted in such a way that suggested an animal examining its prey, a look completely unmistakable for a simple arrangement on the behalf of museum curator's.

No, this beast that had been dead for millions of years was very much alive. And looking straight at him, neck craned further each time Nook let a panicked blink out.

Sweating down his leaf-emblazoned apron, Nook swallowed hard and tore his gaze away, looking desperately for any sign of an exit.

That was when he saw the Pteranodon. And the Sabretooth Cat. And the Velociraptor.

A whole army of ancient creatures, barren of flesh but still able-bodied. They did not move their bodies, simply followed Nook with their eyes, making their move every time Nook let them out of his direct sight for even a split second.

Nook started to pant. His breaths came faster but with decreasing depth. Saliva started to froth at one corner of his mouth. He was backing up unconsciously, putting distance between himself and the stand-mounted skeletal fiends but simultaneously closing the gap between his back and the wall, upon which there would be little hope of escape.

Nook let out a short, feeble little shriek, seeing that the Sabretooth had leapt off its podium and was now making a slow advance towards him with every blink. A nervous glance around the room confirmed that the Raptor too was pressing forwards, one clawed toe now scraping across the tiles. The Pteranodon was up on both claws, wings unfurled and outstretched like a vampiric cape.

A crash that shook the whole room signalled the Tyrannosaurus' movement, but by now, Nook wasn't even looking at his attackers. Petrified, he had sunk to the floor, tail stretched out behind him, cowering with hands over eyes as he waited for the end to come. The killing blow to land.

Several moments passed, slowly and painfully trickling by as though struck by a bout of indigestion.

But nothing happened. The killing blow never fell.

Tom Nook's eyes opened tentatively, expecting to see an army of skeletal monsters closing in on him. But when he looked around him, he could see nothing at all. The fossil displays were exactly as they had always been, sat still in neutral positions upon their podiums.

All was as it should be, but Nook was far from at ease. With a panicked squeal, he leapt to his feet, and fled the room.

* * *

Blathers peered out of the window, half-expecting to see a leering attacker reaching out with combine harvester teeth and sabre-like claws.

To his relief, the fog did not draw back to reveal such a spectacle. The wisps of white continued to roll past, visibly unchanged.

"Hootie-hoo," the museum's curator stammered. "I haven't been this on-edge since that time I found an ant crawling all over my birdseed pizza..."

Cooper was beside him then, coming as suddenly (and yet with a depressing predictability) as a torrential rainstorm on a British holiday resort.

"I've been thinking about what you said," the guardsmen said quietly.

"Oh?" Blathers replied, eyebrow curling appropriately.

"And... I think it's mostly bull. Mostly. But what you said about the end of all things... It reminded me of something I was told recently..."

Blathers straightened, attentions now undivided. "A mystical prophecy of high importance come to fruition?"

Cooper's eyes darted, failing to meet their feathered counterparts. "No... Just one of Katrina's ramblings... A pretty damn ominous rambling at that."

"Do tell."

"She gave me a rather disturbing reading of my future," Cooper said quietly, tail alternating between stiffened and relaxed as his body went through the motions.

"Disturbing?"

"The first card had a skull on it," Cooper replied bluntly. "Then there was a fire, and a sinking boat."

Blathers, who was hardly a mystical man, nevertheless had no trouble discerning the meaning of such a prediction.

"Yes, I see. Omens of the apocalypse are rarely... subtle."

Cooper snorted. "It gets better. When the crazy kitten saw my cards, she leapt straight out of her seat, screaming about me being some kind of reaper - an angel of death, I believe. I mean... a reaper? Did I forsake my tin hat for a black hood that day or was that kitty cat on crack?"

"I had little faith in her prophesies," Blathers sighed, giving a slight shrug. "She kept telling me that I would fill the gallery with something other than crayon-paper counterfeits from Crazy Redd's, but no such thing has happened. Yet, I cannot deny that on this occasion, she has been bang on the bells."

Cooper let out a long, gale-like breath. "I was never trained for this. Red alert for us meant we were out of strawberry jam in the breakroom. The only time I've ever used this damn spear was one day when I got an inch down the crack of my butt-"

"Yes, yes, quite," Blathers stumbled, keen to move on from the subject.

And, right on cue, Nook's screams echoed through the hallway.

* * *

The Roost was empty when Ellis and Hugh arrived, save for Pierce and Brewster himself, the old pigeon standing omnipresent behind the counter, forever polishing a mug.

"Yo, Dr. E," Pierce cried out between gulps of coffee, his face lightening as he saw his pal. "I'm so happy my pecs might pop off!"

Ellis smirked. "Good to see you too, my man."

"Can I get you anything, coo?" Brewster asked, leaning over the counter.

"I'll have a cup of java, Brewster," Ellis replied, sidling up on the stool next to Pierce.

"Care for any pigeon milk?" Brewster enquired, pouring the steaming, opaque-black liquid into a mug.

"Sure, knock yourself out."

"Very good," Brewster said, ripping open the top of his buttoned vest with a casual flick of his wing, pulling out two feathered manboobs, and squeezing them into a glass, where a thick milk was accumulated.

Ellis took the mug and sipped at it immediately, fearful of inciting the pigeon barista's wrath.

"So, all of this, it's some wacky cultist thing, right?" Pierce asked, a strange excitement in his eyes as he spoke.

"Could be," Ellis shrugged. "Blathers has a theory."

"A crazy theory," Hugh elaborated with a curt, knowing nod.

"Well, it doesn't matter to me who or what is behind all this," Pierce growled. "When I find them, I'm going to crunch them up between my abdominal muscles. Yaaaah!"

Brewster snorted, a sound so quiet and spontaneous that for a few moments, nobody reacted to it, perhaps believing they had imagined it. Eventually, Pierce raised one eyebrow and said "Something funny, Brewster?"

"Oh, no, no," Brewster chuckled. "Just... your idea of abs... its very amusing."

Pierce's eyes grew wide, an aggression leaking into his stance.

"And you would have a better idea?" he snapped.

At this, Brewster simply opened the bottom two buttons of his jacket, pulling it asunder to reveal a fabled sixteen-pack. Pierce, who was mid-sip, opened his mouth to a gape, the java cascading down his lips and back into the cup.

"Duuude," Pierce cawed, mesmerised. "How?"

Brewster just buttoned his jacket again, smiling smugly. "The benefits of auto breast-feeding, my boy."

"Teach me..." Pierce gurgled.

"Another time," Brewster chuckled. "Right now, we have an apocalypse to weather."

A scream like a chipmunk having its nipples electrified tore through the building, causing all four of the Roost gang to stiffen.

"What was that, oink?" Hugh asked, voice shaking involuntarily.

Brewster's eyes narrowed. "It sounded like the wounded cry of a wild git..."

The trio - minus the ever-stationary Brewster - ran up the stairs into the museum lobby, where a large crowd of similarly-startled crowdsfolk had gathered. In the centre of their attentions was Tom Nook, sat on the floor with his stripy tail in his hands. Blathers was beside him, trying to scrutinise him for any clues surrounding the origin of his fright.

Nook started to whisper in a practically-feverish voice, his words barely intelligible to Blathers' ear, and all-but-nonsensical to the listening crowd.

"What do you mean?" Blathers squawked. "What's in the building?"

"Nook says the monsters are in the building!" Sable screamed, prompting a burst of frightened whispering amongst the masses in the room.

Blathers, seeing the calm of the museum respite draining faster than water in a colander, tried to restore order. "Now, he didn't say that exactly..."

"They're going to shave off my feathers and slather me up with mayonnaise!" Queenie shrieked. "And I'm not okay with that!"

"Please, try to remain calm!" Blathers yelled, raising both wings and flapping them about in frustration. "Nothing is accomplished by screeching at each other like a pack of fruit bats!"

 **"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"** Queenie wailed. **"SCREECHING SOLVES EVERYTHING! EVERYT-"**

The avian's shrieks died down as Hugh produced a roll of tartan rug and threw it on the ground in front of him, prompting Queenie to drop her ruffled feathers and make a dive for it.

"As I was saying..." Blathers coughed. "We need to keep our heads now. Panicking only makes things worse."

Booker and Cooper emerged from the fossil exhibit, and Blathers turned to them. "Did you see anything?"

Booker went redder than a Mandrill's butt cheek as he realised that he had not been paying attention again. Luckily, Cooper jumped in. "No findings, sir. The fossil exhibit is perfectly sound."

Blathers beamed. "Now, you see, everyone? Nothing to worry about."

"Only... One of the exhibits in the other zones is unaccounted for..." Cooper grumbled.

Blathers looked back. "Oh?"

"Yeah... We couldn't find the moth-"

Blathers let out a banshee-like screech, dropping onto his belly with both wings folded over his head defensively.

"This is terrible!" he wailed, voice softened by the insulation of the floor. "Find the blasted creature! Find it, you imbeciles!"

Blathers' hysteria was enough to bring Nook out of his stunned silence, upon which he stood up and looked out at the crowd.

"I know what I saw," he said, softly but with no semblance of calm. "Fear is a good thing. I know, I read about it in a book... A book that's on sale at my store right now!"

"Nook, please," Cooper sighed, noticing the terror on the villagers' faces twist into a bitter contempt. "He makes a good point, people! Not about the sale thing - the fear thing. It's okay to be afraid. Just don't let your fear manifest as hysterics, okay?"

 **"IT'S ON THE BLOODY WALL!"** Blathers screamed, pointing a feathered finger at a wooden display board next to the insects section featuring a brown outline of a butterfly.

"Someone take him out of here," Cooper murmured, jabbing Booker with the side of his spear suggestively. The sluggish bulldog merely jumped at the touch, helmet slipping down the side of his head.

As Hugh and Ellis moved towards Blathers, there was a thunderous sound. A heavy banging, a rapport between wood and bone that could only be knocking. Cooper looked at the front door, which was rattling on its hinges from the impact, and gripped his spear tighter.

"Who the heck could that be?" Wolfgang asked, seconds before his question was answered.

"Guys! It's Octavian! Let me in!"

Ellis frowned. "Octavian moved away three months ago. It's a trick."

"No!" The voice sounded from the other side of the door. "It's really me! I came back, and there were these monsters! Please, you have to let me in!"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm sold," Hugh grunted, edging towards the doors.

Ellis stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Hugh, stop! We can't trust what he says. Remember what Blathers said!"

The owl in question, who was now writhing about on the floor in waves of tears, did not respond to the dropping of his name. Hugh snorted and pushed Ellis away.

"What if it was you out there?" he challenged. "You'd want to be let in! If we hadn't opened it for you and Wolfgang, you guys would have been bacon!"

The pounding on the door started again, and Hugh went for the handle before Ellis could stop him again. The wooden hinges were thrown open, and a carpet of blistering white fog rolled into the lobby.

The silhouette of a figure moved forwards, coming closer into the light, until Ellis could make out a familiar set of tentacles and suction cups, with which came a great sigh of relief.

"Thank god, it really is you, man," he said.

Octavian stood in the doorway, tentacles folded angrily. "Of course it's me! Who else would it be, the Kraken? Cracking skulls more like, sucker."

Hugh's panicked grimace was swept away by a huge grin. "How come you came back?"

Octavian shrugged. "Well, what can I say? The weather here is lovely! Now, enough chitchat, lets get settled in-"

The cephalopod was cut off mid-sentence as an enormous, bulky black shape rose up behind him out of the fog, bundling him up into its arms.

Ellis recognised the attacker immediately. "Wendell? What are you doing?!"

The walrus let out a throaty cackle as it crushed the struggling Octavian against its chest. "I'm starving for a good meal!" he boomed, mouth opening to reveal a demonic pair of yellow tusks lined with blood-sodden bristles.

Hugh hurriedly slammed the door against the monstrous walrus, but not before the squelching of Octavian's head being chomped down upon echoed throughout the hall, met with shrieks and winces alike.

"Help me!" Hugh cried, pushing his whole body against the shuddering frame in a vain attempt to hold off against the battering ram that lay beyond.

"This is a job for the biceps of doom!" Pierce cried, charging the door and laying heavily against it. His efforts were barely recognised as his feet slid across the ground helplessly.

Soon, nearly six townsfolk were lined up against the door. The frame continued to rattle for some time, but now with no chance of giving way, eventually the onslaught concluded, with thumping from outside the door indicated the demon walrus' retreat.

When there was all-but silence in the area, the survivors let out a collective wail of fear, frustration and exhaustion. Blathers, who had recovered from his hissy fit just in time to see the end of the struggle, hooted solemnly.

"These are the end times, truly..."

Hugh let out an uncharacteristic whimper. "How could this possibly get any worse?"

And then, as though the pig's disparate proclamation coupled with the town's temporary respite had tapped into a vein of cosmic irony, every light in the building suddenly went out, leaving the survivors in a veil of dark.

To Queenie's credit, it was a good four seconds before she started to screech.


	3. The Dark

**Sequence Three: The Dark**

"Nothing to be afraid of in the dark, Sable dearie. Not unless you're the kinda hog who jumps at the sight of her own spines! But no, I know you to be braver than that... You aren't your sister..."

Sable recalled her old grandmother's voice in her head so clearly she may as well have been listening to it. Her memory was a powerful sense, bringing with it more than simple images - a phantom scent of pine needles and almond and hazelnut coffee beans drifted into her nostrils. The aroma of her grandmother.

The darkness in the museum foyer was a stark visual stimuli for such a memory to resurface in Sable's mind. Sat on the steps in a cradle of shadow it was hard not to feel like the walls were rapidly drawing in - it certainly didn't help that the rest of the congregated townsfolk were flipping their shovels in panic.

"What if my shirt gets dirty?" Came Queenie's unhinged squawks from somewhere in the dark. "HOW WILL I KNOW?"

"Moths are attracted to light, aren't they?" Blathers chimed in. "SO NOW IT COULD BE ANYWHERE? HOLY HORSE MACKEREL!"

Even Mable, who by light was a pretty level-headed mammal, was now in fits of hysteria, popping her spines in and out next to Sable with an awful noise that sounded like a balloon rapidly inflating and deflating.

Sable thought that the mania would never settle. The noise was like an unrelenting tide that seemed destined never to go out. But then in a moment it was suddenly over, as a loud cry pierced the vacuum and silenced the whole hall.

"Shush!" Wolfgang howled, stamping a furry claw hard on the tiles to accentuate his roar. "Quiet down ya puppies, it's only the dark, snarl."

"That's easy for you to say!" Queenie wailed. "You're a predator. A hunter. You're adapted for the dark, but we aren't!"

"That may be so!" Wolfgang retorted. "But I'm also a Blithely Oaks resident, and that makes me just like any of you. And if I'm calm, what's stopping you?"

"MY COMMON SENSE!" Queenie squealed.

"Just stop screaming for a minute and think it through!" Wolfgang growled. "The power has gone out. So what? It's possible that something nefarious is going on, but its more likely that the generator has just blown out. All we have to do is go reset it."

"And how, pray tell, are we going to do that?" Nook's voice resounded.

Wolfgang snorted. "You runts said it yourself. I was bred for this. Let me take two or so people over to the generator, snarl."

A murmur of acknowledgement rippled through the crowd. It seemed like at least some rationality was being employed - that Wolfgang had been moderately successful.

"So, any volunteers?" Wolfgang asked hopefully.

In the dark it was impossible to tell if any paws, claws or hands were raised, but it was safer to assume not. Tiring of the silence, Wolfgang called "Ellis, Hugh, you up guys?"

"Sure, I guess," Ellis replied, secretly eager to escape the radius of Queenie's banshee screeches.

Hugh, on the other hand, was hesitant. "I'm not sure, Dr. W," he muttered. "I did just see Octavian die right in front of me... I'm not sure I'm in any fit state to-"

"Bah, just walk it off!" Wolfgang chuckled. "Or, if you don't... I'll huff and puff and blow your house down, piggy boy!"

"Fine, I'll come," Hugh sighed. "No need to get all Big Bad Wolf with me..."

"Blathers, where is the generator?" Wolfgang called out, hoping his inquisitive tones would not be lost on the panic-stricken owl.

"At the back of the insect enclosure," Blathers replied. Ellis could practically hear him wince as he finished his sentence. "You'll need my keys."

"Toss em' over," Wolfgang said.

There was a metallic jangle and a crash as a set of keys were sent pirouetting to the darkened floor below. Wolfgang slapped his hand against his forehead instantaneously.

"Probably not the brightest thing I've ever suggested," he groaned sheepishly.

"Every dog has his day... Wolfie boy," Hugh sniggered.

"I've got them!"

Wolfgang did not recognise the female voice that had spoken. "Who is that?"

The owner of the voice smiled, spinning her keys around one finger. "It's Sable, from the Able Sisters."

"You mean you're tha one who sits in the chair and whines about customers pestering her, snarl?" Wolfgang growled. "Hmmph."

Sable's cheeks bled red, luckily nigh-on invisible in the dark. "Only for some customers..."

"Whatever, just give us the keys, will ya?"

When the keys finally reached Wolfgang's outstretched paws, he gave a sly grin and nodded to his barely-visible companions. "Alright gang, lets smash... uh, reboot this generator..."

Blathers listened as the doors at the other end of the darkened room opened and closed with a slight bang. Then, he let out a deep, blustery sigh.

"There are still good people in the world, hoo," he said quietly.

Then he felt the featherduster touch of several tiny Moth-like legs crawling on the back of his neck.

(-)

Wolfgang heard Blathers' cry echo down the darkened corridor as he, Hugh and Ellis inched slowly through it. Despite the tension of the situation, all three boys let out a little giggle.

"How does he even get the bugs into their enclosures if he won't touch them?" Hugh sniggered.

"One of life's unanswered questions," Wolfgang replied. "Alongside 'Why is Coco's face so creepy?', and 'Who lets off all the balloons above our town?'"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about this," Hugh nodded. "See, sometimes when the presents land, you can find scraps of shattered balloon plastic around... There was clearly text on the back of the balloons... Once, I managed to piece together about half of it... It said 'Boon.'"

Ellis' eyes lit up. "Boondox?"

"You mean those rats have been lying all along about being poor?" Wolfgang roared. "Why, I'm going to grill them on their own stinking dirt barbecues!"

Hugh coughed loudly. "No, Wolfgang, I think it means that these balloons were aid sent towards Boondox... Aid that we shot down."

Wolfgang's face fell. "Oh. Ohhhhh. That's bad, isn't it? But, hey, it's not like anyone told us!"

Ellis stopped walking, hearing a distant hum somewhere up ahead. "I think I hear the generator!"

The buzzing grew more audible as the trio closed in upon it, and spirits soared as a result. It was only when Wolfgang reached the generator that he paused, a frown sweeping out his smile.

"Dr. W?" Hugh asked.

"Doesn't this feel strange to anyone else?" Wolfgang asked, now standing more rigidly as the hairs collected on the back of his neck.

"Strange?" Hugh replied confusedly.

"Yeah... This generator isn't working, snarl."

Hugh's indignant snort could have shattered a paper mâché. "We've found ourselves a winner ladies and gents..."

Wolfgang bunched his paws angrily. "You're not understanding! If the generator is off or broken, then what is the sound we're hearing?"

Hugh froze, finally seeing the full picture in all of its ominous glory. "Oh..."

Ellis twitched suddenly, feeling a crawling sensation on his forearm. He looked down at the assailant that had landed open his flesh, his own eyes locking with a collection of peepers that could rival a spider's Halloween costume. Then, he let out a short gasp.

"Dr. E?" Hugh cried. "What is it?"

A droplet of sweat trickled down Ellis' forehead, cruising from his dampened, matted combover to the bridge of his nose. He let out a pitiful whimper.

"Bee..."

"Bee?" Hugh repeated, sounding more gormless than even Booker.

"Bee, Hugh," Ellis grimaced. "It's on my arm. It must have gotten out of its enclosure."

"Hmmph, what's one bee gonna do to ya?" Wolfgang chortled, as ever finding sadistic comedy in the misery of others. "Gonna need some medicine, wittle baby? Hahahah-"

Wolfgang stopped laughing abruptly, hearing the crashing of one impossibly heavy footfall. And then another. And another. With it came a distinct rumbling - no longer quite like a generator; now more like an angry swarm. Without even thinking the villager smacked a fist upon the generator's reset, prompting it to spurt and rattle into life.

The lights in the room came on one-by-one as the booming steps continued. Rows and rows of glass cases were illuminated, invertebrate inhabitants leaping up against their panes as if to greet their visitors.

The last light flickered on at the end of the hall just in time to herald the final footstep. As the trio watched, from the darkness of the corridor, now thrust into the light faster than a sneeze, stepped a figure.

(-)

Sable had her eyes closed, deep in a pacified state of meditation when the lights spontaneously and abruptly came back on. She was only made aware as the cheer rippled through the crowd, at which her point her eyes flickered open.

"We're saved!" Pierce wailed. "My dumbbells and I are saved!"

"What a hero that Wolfgang is," Pelly whistled. "And who'd have thought it before?"

"A terrible misjudgement of character," Cooper nodded solemnly. "But hey, is it really that surprising that a fellow canine came through to save the day? Isn't that right, Booker?"

The bulldog stood up so straight he surely pulled out his spine. "Yes, Mr. Cooper, sir... I think."

"Wait, what's that?"

Everyone turned to look where Nook was pointing his trembling finger, the corner of the room.

Then there was a collective shriek.

Queenie, body coated in searing red marks, lay dead against the wall, eyes rolled into the back of her avian skull.

"Holy sumo squat!" Pierce cried. "She be dead!"

"And not just dead either," Tom Nook added. "Murdered. If only we had a lab table to take a proper look at her!"

"I thought it was strange that I hadn't heard her screaming..." Cooper sighed.

"What could have done this?" Pierce asked incredulously.

Blathers narrowed his eyes, beak twitching. "Only one thing... But it's too terrible to even think about."

"What?" Cooper demanded.

Swallowing hard, Blathers let out a short, pained whisper.

"Bees. A swarm of bees..."

(-)

Wolfgang's snout was dropped so low that he would likely require hydraulics to lever it again. Hugh's eyes were wide and unblinking, specked with tears. Ellis felt so numb he could scarcely take in a breath.

The figure before them was so inhuman - so Machiavellian and esoteric in form - that it seemed wrong to even call it a person, despite its anthropomorphic features. Up until the waist it was essentially a normal human, save for a few splatters of honey on the skirt that it wore.

However, the middle upwards was nothing short of monstrous.

Where its head should have been was a cylindrical, paper-like structure coated in glossy amber honey. It was a bee's nest - of that there could be no doubt. Black clouds of fury orbited the mass and crawled over nearly every uncovered space, buzzing loudly and menacingly.

The creature's chest was bare, but coated with huge, bulbous red sores that could only be clusters of bee stings more numerous than stars in a galaxy. In one hand it was dragging a long, ridiculously-large rusty-metal bug-catching net along the floor. From the way it held itself, clearly it intended to use the tool to ill effect.

A few seconds passed with a painful lack of action. Then, the creature let out a booming roar, sweeping its net around in an arc that shattered several displays like water through tissue paper.

Hugh was the first to speak. Or, to be more accurate, squeak.

"Run away?"

Wolfgang nodded so quickly and roughly that Ellis thought his head might pop off. "Yes, let's do that."

The trio turned to the corridor from whence they came and burst into a sprint. From behind them came the sound of a thousand drones soaring into the air in pursuit - not a nice sound at all. The kind of sound that kept them running in spite of the pounding of their chests that begged them to slow.

As they came towards the foyer, Wolfgang tailed off into a storeroom, gesturing to his companions to follow suit.

"We can't lead them straight to the others, snarl," Wolfgang explained. "But if we stay in here, and the bees go into the foyer anyway, it won't be our fault!"

Hugh nodded curtly. "Zero liability. I like it. No sheep's clothing on you, Dr. W."

"Alright, in, now!" Wolfgang growled, pulling Hugh and Ellis inside the room and slamming it shut.

For a few tantalising moments, all that could be heard in the room was three sets of heavy breathing. Then, from beyond the door, the sonorous buzzing started to sound.

In a hushed whisper, Ellis gave a guilty confession. "Hugh, I just want you to know... I never actually liked that molecule tee you gave me."

Hugh's face fell in the twilight of the room. "You... lied?"

"Yes," Ellis replied solemnly.

"You swine!"

"Shush!" Wolfgang growled sternly, scowling fiercely.

The buzzing continued for a good fifteen-to-twenty seconds, but to the relief of the trio, it eventually started to move away. When all went silent beyond the door, Wolfgang let out a joyous sigh.

"Live to fight another day," he beamed, hand moving to open the door.

The handle rattled. And rattled. But the door did not open.

"What is this?" Wolfgang snarled. "The door is jammed!"

Hugh looked from Ellis to Wolfgang to the unmoved door, fear contorting his porcine features.

"What are we going to do?" he squealed.

Wolfgang stopped rattling the door abruptly, bunched both claws at his sides, and turned to Hugh.

"We're going to blow this door down, snarl."

(-)

"Bees? As in, 'bee' plural?"

Blathers nodded, respectful if Pierce's limited but accurate mathematics.

"Aye. Which means this is another creation of the Other."

A worried murmur started to ripple through the crowd. Blathers continued to blather.

"Hoo, it is as I feared. The Other has reached into our very nightmares, dragging forth all of the things which make us afraid, and recreating them in startling and monstrous forms."

"What do we do, Blathers?" Mable questioned, sounding fearful. Next to her, Sable took her paw.

As the owl was about to speak, Cooper cut in. "The creatures have breached the museum. We have no choice now. We must make a break for another town, through the gate."

"You mean we have to run through the town?" Tom Nook asked, sounding faint.

"It's the only way," Cooper reiterated. "If we are fast, we may not encounter any trouble."

Blathers was nodding solemnly, but then his ears picked up on a fearful sound. Buzzing - and it was coming this way.

"Cooper is right," Blathers said. "We must go. Now."

"What about Wolfgang, Ellis and Hugh?" Pierce asked, flexing a wing.

"There is nothing we can do for them. With any luck, they'll find us. But we need to go. Right now!"

Blathers cry perfectly matched the timing of the booming footsteps from down the corridor. Every town resident stood up, itching now for the door. Booker opened the door quickly, allowing the multicoloured wave to sweep through it - and, just then, the creature stepped into the room.

Blathers could not resist turning to look. His scientific curiosity forbade it.

"Hootie hoo, Beehive Head!" he cawed. "Of course, beehives are such an integral part of every resident's daily fears! It makes sense!"

As he finished the christening, Beehive Head raised his arms into the air, and his stinging swarm took flight.

"Oh dear," Blathers said, as he turned around - and, this time - did not look back.


	4. The Other

**Sequence Four: The Other**

Blathers ran.

He did not stop running, barely falling below a consistently agile pace as he swept across the fog-strewn ruin of his beloved town. Not even when his electro-shock wakey-wakey alarm clock fell out of his non-existent pocket and cluttered onto the ground.

His breaths were stuttering, plentiful but still painfully inadequate. His sides felt like they had been gouged through by a rock, but as time wore by, a soothing disconnectedness set in, numbing the flaring agony.

Beside him nearly the whole way, Nook ran very fast for a convenience store cloak, never slowed down by the heavy swaying of his apron that surely indicated a swell of bagged bells were stored inside. His feet barely skidded in the mud on the banks of the river, nor on the mounds of damp leaves congregating on the forest floor. There seemed like nothing, in heaven or hell, could slow him down.

But then he saw the rock. The rock with the golden hue that could only mean one thing - bells.

Before Blathers even realised what was happening, Nook had pulled out a shovel from his TARDIS-like apron and flung himself at the rock, hoping to crack it open and reap its reward.

"Tom, no!" Blathers cried. "Don't stop, not for anything!"

"I'll only be a second!" Nook shouted back. "It's going to be fine!"

The raccoon raised his shovel, practically foaming at the mouth.

But, before he could strike the boulder he felt a sharp pain in his neck.

"Aah!" he cried out, paw already moving to the source.

"Tom? Are you okay?" Blathers enquired.

"Just a mosquito," Nook panted back. "Just a-"

His eyes grew wide - wider even than when Ellis had told him he had no intention of buying his spotlight product now or ever. His face drained of colour, literally dulling as though someone had pulled the plug on his veins.

He opened his mouth slightly, trying to either suck in a faint breath or make a feeble plea for help. But to no avail.

As Blathers watched, too terrified to speak, Nook literally melted away, right in front of him. Fur and flesh withered, turning to white bone - all empty eye sockets and bare ribcage. His head slumped forward lifelessly as it was emaciated.

In less than ten seconds, Nook was just a skeleton, and dropped to the ground, bones falling off and dropping into a neat pile below where he had been standing.

The shovel clattered to the earth, burying its head in the mud, just as Blathers was so tempted to do.

The demonic mosquito drew back, attack completed. Its eyes found Blathers, but by now the owl was already too far away to meet a similar fate. He had disappeared once again into the pea soup, and with it, into countless unknown horrors.

(-)

"Try it again!"

Wolfgang rounded on Hugh, snarling.

"I've tried it fifteen times, snarl! IT WON'T OPEN."

Hugh retreated slightly from the raised voice, before his eyes lit up, excitedly giving another suggestion.

"Try pouring hot milk onto it!"

Wolfgang exchanged a look with Ellis, the latter of which had retreated into a sombre trance.

"Hugh, we don't have any hot milk! We don't have any milk, we don't even have any heat! Where are we going to get hot milk from?"

"I'm sorry, Wolfgang, I was only trying to help..."

"Yeah? Well, you're better off not."

The wolf turned back to pacing the short length of their enclosure, claws opening and closing almost-ritually.

"You know, this wouldn't even be so bad if it wasn't so small," he growled. "Did I ever tell you that I hate enclosed spaces, snarl? Well, I do. AND WHO THE HELL KEEPS STEPPING ON MY TAIL!"

Hugh pointed a trembling trotter at Wolfgang's feet - one of which was stood upon his own tail.

Sighing cavernously, Wolfgang continued to rant. "This is just what I needed. Everything was going right for me. I was on a healthy, tofu diet and I was integrating into society brilliantly, after... what happened at my last town..."

Ellis looked up. "Wait, what happ-"

"It's not important!" Wolfgang snapped. "All that matters is that everything good in my life is once again ruined... Thanks to this stupid, inconvenient apocalypse! Well, go on then!"

Ellis looked up again. "What?"

"Say something encouraging! Say it, just so I can shoot you down!"

"Wow," Ellis spat. "Never guessed you were a closet douchebag."

Wolfgang held his scathing gaze steady. "I'm not. But this isn't exactly my day!"

"Just stay calm, Dr. W," Hugh cut in. "Everything will be fine."

"There we go!" Wolfgang beamed. "No, everything will not be okay, Hugh, you ditzy pig."

Hugh snorted aggressively. "Well, I sure won't be buying any more carpets for you."

"Carpets? I'll make you into a carpet, leather boy!"

"Enough!"

Ellis leapt off of the box he was sat upon, fists bunched.

"Guys, we can't be going at each others' throats like this! We've been in here how long?"

Hugh glanced at his glow-in-the-dark watch. "Uhhhhhh... Three minutes."

"Three minutes, and we're already threatening to make furniture out of each other? Can't you see how crazy this is?"

Wolfgang chuckled cruelly. "It only TAKES three minutes to make a carpet. The way I do it, anyway... With my claws."

Ellis pushed at the door fiercely, feeling the metal hinges creak, but continue to hold fast. Frustrated, he loosened his grip.

"Come on you two, help me push!"

Sighing, Wolfgang and Hugh moved next to Ellis. With all three bearing their weight, Ellis gave the order.

"Push!"

(-)

The town gate stood tall above the vortices of mist - a veritable lighthouse in the turmoil of the night.

Blathers arrived at the arch with very breaths left in his lungs. He bent over, wings rested on his thighs, red face dripping with perspiration. A few seconds later, Pierce was beside him. Then came Cooper and Booker, Sable and Mable, and finally Phyllis.

It seemed nobody else had made it. Least of all old Tortimer, who had been trampled to death back at the museum.

"If this doesn't work, we're all going to die, aren't we?" Pierce panted sombrely.

"It's gonna work," Blathers assured him. "Once Cooper and Booker here have opened the ga-"

Blathers' blathering cut off sharply, eyes widening, as he saw Booker being raised several feet off the ground by a demonic Resetti-pede.

The confused bulldog looked about himself sleepily. "What... Er... I..."

Blathers turned, covering his ears as the hound's head was crushed into a pulp of blood and bone.

"Inside!" Cooper bellowed.

Surprisingly, there were few objections. The group pelted into the building, legs blurring like those of a children's TV character whilst in motion.

Pierce, who was at the head of the crowd, suddenly slowed to a halt, head raising to gaze at the sinister sight in front of him. As the others arrived, they too stopped to stare, dumbfounded.

"Is that...?" Cooper whispered.

"Yes," Blathers said. "I do believe it is."

Where the gate had once stood was an enormous white and pink sheet of fog that swirled and churned like the waters of a hot tub.

"The entrance to the Other," Cooper concluded. "Which means there's no way out of here."

Blathers coughed gently, indicated he was about to start monologuing. "No quite so, actually. There's a way... And that's forward."

"Whaaaat?!" Came the collective cry of the crowd.

"Perhaps if we can find the source of the fog, we can stop this," Blathers explained. "We may as well try... There's nowhere else to go?"

Cooper looked at the faces in the crowd. Sure, there was fear there - but there was something else, too.

Bravery, perhaps.

Or maybe just constipation. It was hard to tell.

Pierce was the first to summarise his thoughts. "Me and my quads are down."

Cooper chimed in next. "Better than cowering in the corner."

Pelly looked across to Phyllis, who spat a lump of gum onto the floor.

"Better than staying here," she concurred.

"Alright," Blathers cried. "Is everyone in?"

The crowd cheered. A determined grin broke across the owl's beak.

"Then let's go cancel this apocalypse!" he Idris Elba'd.

\- Five Hours Later -

Wolfgang sat in the corner, back against the wall, staring out with wide eyes. He was cradling himself, whispering inaudible but sinister-sounding phrases.

"Well, he's lost it," Hugh said.

"It's only been five hours," Ellis remarked. "His fuse must be shorter than I thought."

"Do you think... We're safe from him?" Hugh wondered. Ellis just sighed inwardly to himself.

"Toff... Toff... Need... toff..." Wolfgang gurgled.

"Toff?" Hugh asked. "You want toffee?"

"He means Tofu," Ellis said. "His tofu diet. If he doesn't eat the stuff, he starts to have cravings..."

Hugh's eyebrows shot up. "Cravings for what...?"

Both shot to attention as Wolfgang suddenly rose up onto both feet, turning to face the duo with a strange glint in his eye. His tongue, drenched in saliva, lulled out at the corner of his mouth.

"Hugh?" he whispered throatily.

Hugh looked startled at the drop of his name. "M-m-me?"

Wolfgang looked him straight in the face, and the glint grew deeper.

And darker.

"Why... what a delicious nose you have..." Wolfgang chuckled.

Hugh laughed nervously. "I'm not food, you silly plonker. It's me, Hugh! Your bud! Dr. W?"

"Hugh..." Ellis said, warily pulling his porcine companion back.

"What succulent trotters..." Wolfgang whispered, drooling at the mouth now.

"Dr. W, you are one crazy jokester..." Hugh laughed. "You've actually got me convinced you want to eat me!"

Wolfgang did not share the humour. He started to advance on Hugh, slobbering and muttering incomprehensibly of pulled pork and barbecue sauce.

"Hugh!" Ellis cried.

Suddenly, Wolfgang lunged, claws outstretched. Ellis pulled Hugh aside, causing his attacker to instead barrel into the locked door, which popped open on impact.

"Are we playing a game?" A dazed Hugh asked as he sat up, smiling goofily.

"Hugh, we have to go now!" Ellis yelled.

By now, Wolfgang was back on his feet. His back arched as a furious howl was expelled from his throat.

"Gooo!" Ellis screamed, tugging Hugh through the doorway, and running for his life.

(-)

Blathers awoke with a jolt. He sat up, eyes sweeping the area inquisitively.

He was alone in the middle of a strange stone courtyard. The perimeter of the yard was walled by thick white fog, and it seemed as though there was no leaving. Indeed, it was like a jail cell, only the walls were not constructed of brick and mortar but the cloudy perimeters of hell itself.

"Oh, eh?" The disturbed avian muttered, rising tentatively with liquid fear hurtling through his veins.

"BLATHERS."

The booming voice came out of the very air. Blathers shook, like lightning had coursed down his back, at the very sound. He felt a thousand watchful eyes land upon him, his back arching and talons twitching as he realised that he was not alone in this strange place.

"WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU," the voice boomed again.

"Who are you?" Blathers cried disparately to the thin air. His call was met with a reply, and with it, the fog lifted from the world, revealing his true surroundings.

"WE ARE THE TIMELESS, THE IMMORTAL, THE CREATORS."

"Oh my," Blathers whispered.

He was in a courtroom, and every seat in the aisles was occupied by a different, oddly-shaped, horribly-contorted being.

"WE ARE THE COUNCIL OF THE GYROIDS," the voice boomed again. "AND WE ARE HERE TO WEIGH YOUR SOUL."

!


End file.
